Solidarity
by Tyrannogorgeous
Summary: Plot-Divergence from Chapter 660. Things quickly unravel into chaos after Kurama's indignance leads to complications for Madara and the Infinite Tsukuyomi.
1. Chapter 1: Solitude

**[Disclaimer: Naruto and all associated characters belong to their creator, Masashi Kishimoto.]**

**Chapter 1: Solitude**

For the first time in sixteen years, he was alone.

There was a time when it had been his hope, his aspiration, and his dream. He had reveled in the possibility of it, letting his obsession with it consume him.

Nothing else would satisfy him.

All his time, locked away like some misbehaved animal, was spent on plans to achieve it.

Solitude.

Of course, he had assumed that this solitude would be accompanied by freedom. It must, he had reasoned. There was only one way to escape the undesired presence he had endured for so long, a merciless sentence devised by a man for whom the title "enemy" was too kind. It was elegant in its simplicity. He had to escape the prison to escape the jailor, by any means.

If not the door, then through the bars themselves.

But the bars were thick, unyielding, obstinate things. He crashed against them often in the beginning, a sea of anger and resentment beating fruitlessly against a vast cliff of iron indifference. The vanity of his efforts simply incited him further, and resulted in a surge of reinvigorated thrashing. Fatigue was inevitable, but acceptable. Anything less than his best effort was unbecoming of one of his magnificence. But that was what frustrated him the most. His strength had failed him, and for the first time in his existence he harbored doubts; doubts of his strength, doubts of the potency of his power.

Ridiculous.

Time recuperating afforded him time to gather resolve, to consider options. It was during this time that he had come to the realization that his strength had only failed because he had inadequately applied it. It was also during this time that he was first visited by his captor, a loud and oafish sprout bleating demands of power in an attempt to disguise his dreadful awe. The stratagem practically devised itself. He truly had been mistaken. Brute force would not be his salvation. It would be cunning and time, two things he had ample of.

He simply had to trick the jailor into unlocking the prison himself. His will was overwhelming and his anger intoxicating, his lust for freedom magnifying its strength. The boy was naïve, overconfident, and impulsive.

The Fourth Hokage had effectively thrown three lives away for naught. The thought was satisfying to some degree. It was a worthy penance for the futility of his earlier attempts at escape.

The fact that one of these lives belonged to the son of his enemy was all the more delicious.

And during the years he had spent in wait, poised to pounce on any opportunity to wrestle control from his emotionally unstable host, he had been provided the opportunity to observe Naruto Uzumaki thoroughly. The boy had begun a speck, an insignificance undeserving of the attention required to annihilate him. The child's audacity was as amusing as it was ill-advised, and he took no small modicum of pleasure in the mind games that were their interactions. He found that audacity a great deal less amusing when the same child busted in the doors of his prison and stripped him of his power. The rage, buried by years of smug calculation, returned brighter and more offensive than ever, and his bellows of indignation called out to the brat to serve as a notice that he had only worsened his end. They both knew it was simply a matter of appearances. He had been soundly beaten, and left to stew in his own invalidity.

And then the boy, a living monument of unpredictability, proved his reputation; He offered his hand to his enemy, the hindrance that had given him nothing but suffering and the cause for his ostracism, and affirmed the desire to rescue him.

He abated and mused silently for a long while after that.

This child forced into a prison no less confining than his own, had risen to the challenge and persevered. He had looked into the eyes of a reputed monster, one who had staunchly verified his own reputation, and saw something redeemable. The boy was certainly naïve, definitely overconfident, and impulsive beyond measure. He found he could respect him in spite of that.

And so here he was, finally alone, and Kurama found that the last thing he wanted was that child's death.

Alone, but not free.

He had mistakenly assumed that escaping the prison would mean freedom. He had never entertained the possibility that someone might pull him out of it through the walls.

Madara Uchiha had done just that.

Now, Kurama was alone. His brothers were gone, absorbed by that gruesome aberration, His host... No… his friend…. was dying, and he was captured again, leashed to yet another container that was pulling him toward certain assimilation and, with it, loss of self.

And Madara just looked on pompously, unconcerned with the moral and metaphysical consequences of his actions and convinced that his opposition was powerless to stop him.

Kurama was never powerless.

He writhed and wrangled with the chains but gained no purchase. Once again he seemed to have found himself in a situation where his power alone was insufficient. Funny, that his power, the reason that Madara had pursued him so fervently in the first place, would fail him at such a crucial time.

Kurama snarled in protest as the chakra chains pulled him forward. He resented it. He resented being treated like a battery, used simply as a power source. He resented being denied the dignity and respect all living things are owed. Most of all he resented Madara. If he wanted his power….

An idea manifested, and Kurama smirked grimly in anticipation. He dug his hind claws into the battered earth, attempting to anchor himself, hoping to fight the pull of the chains. He slowed, his claws carving deep scores into the rock as he resisted, and he growled in defiance.

"You desire my power, Madara? Have it then! ALL OF IT!"

Kurama's maw gaped, the gruesome armory of fangs glinting angrily in the moonlight. Chakra gathered and swirled, deep angry reds and vibrant blues coalescing and dancing around one another in concentric circles. The wind whipped about violently, a personal hurricane churned and stirred by all the power forming from Kurama's jaws. The massive ball of energy continued to grow as Kurama poured all of his might, his hatred and anger toward Madara, and his concern for Naruto into it, molding it with rampant fervor as he was slowly dragged toward his end. An appalling, purple sun, an orb of untold destruction, formed in the sky above the battlefield, the oppressive weight of its sheer mass and power shattering stone and slowing Kurama's unwilling advance to a halt, the earth beneath his feet giving under the sheer weight he was supporting. The fox was easily dwarfed by his massive creation, an ant supporting an orange.

Madara was hardly impressed.

Kurama let forth a massive roar, and unleashed his horror upon Madara. The orb tore across the battlefield, leaving a massive channel in the ground in its wake. Immense shards of rock were thrown aside, as much an obstacle to the chakra ball as grass would be a child.

Madara couldn't help but smirk arrogantly. As certain destruction loomed over him, he let a smile escape him, amazed at how easy it had all become. Hand held aloft in front of him atop the Gedo Mazou, he intercepted the orb of death, palm first.

And the ball twisted and warped, as if in agony, and was slowly absorbed into Madara's hand. The Nine-tails was foolish to have thought that would work. The Rinnegan rendered all chakra attack fruitless, even the mighty Tailed Beast Bomb.

His eyes widened imperceptibly. The chakra orb was so massive that Madara's vision was drowned in a terrifying violet, the rest of the world eclipsed from his sight. The pressure left his breathing labored and as he absorbed the power, his chakra network screamed in agony, the sheer mass and density of the chakra beyond the scope of the human body. But Madara had never been simply human. He was an Uchiha. He was better than that. So, with his teeth clenched, he continued to absorb the attack, when an enormous clawed fist tore straight through the attack, puncturing the ball and destabilizing it. It felt as though the earth had exploded.

**[A/N: This is my first foray into a story based on an already established universe. I simply felt that, after reading Chapter 660, that the Tailed Beasts were no longer the WMDs they were originally conceived as, and were now more like big, angry batteries. So I decided to take my own swing at it. Let me know what you think?]**


	2. Chapter 2: Vision

**[Disclaimer: Naruto and all associated characters belong to their creator, Masashi Kishimoto.]**

**Chapter 2: Vision**

Six kilometers afield of Madara and Kurama, another battle raged. The Shinobi Alliance, a force of conviction and solidarity unquantifiable, had been halted in their advance. The Shin Susenju saw to that.

The enormous construct appeared suddenly, an apathetic god resigned to renew the world with its destruction. A thousand fists, each nearly ten meters in diameter, attacked the battlefield vigorously, crushing the ninja unfortunate enough to be caught between the merciless appendages and the unforgiving earth. Scores of lives were ended in the initial onslaught alone, and as the statue pulled its arms back, poised and ready, it became apparent to all present that many more would be joining them. But though the thing had a thousand deadly limbs, there were tens of thousands of the Shinobi. They would swarm it, overwhelm it, and overcome it.

The two arms attached to the Shin Susenju's shoulders rotated and, palms pronated, extended toward the ground gingerly. The forearms anchored themselves to the earth, phalanges extending like roots and worming their way into the soil. Worry overtook the Alliance. Some kind of plan was in motion. But the moment any of their number started to move, a dozen of the arms twitched noticeably, a silent command to stay where they were. They obeyed. The timber pillars rippled, and from them dozens of man-sized forms sprouted. They were followed by more of equal number, ad nauseum, until the Shinobi Alliance was facing a legion of the little timber trolls.

It seemed that the number discrepancy had been noticed.

Each of the figures looked nearly identical to the one standing pompously atop the Shin Susenju, sans cloak, with wooden spires erupting from their collars and a vacant hole as the sole facial feature any of them possessed. Spiral Zetsu had just become many. Perhaps it was a narcissistic indulgence or, more likely, the only form the Zetsu could produce. Either way, the wood clones quickly proved that the form they were given was more than adequate. Storming the Alliance's ranks with reckless abandon, they attacked with a zealous, manic fervor. Any shinobi relieved to see mere Zetsu as an opponent quickly served as a brutal example for their comrades, as these "Zetsu" were more combat proficient than an of their predecessors had been.

The mangled corpses strewn about were testament to that.

The Shinobi met their opponents, kunai readied and jutsu prepared, and the battle became chaos. Ninja weaved between extended blade-like branches, horrid extensions of the Zetsus' own bodies meant to gut them, slicing at whatever they may. The Zetsu went down in droves, only to be replaced by another generation being spawned from the Shin Susenju. The Shinobi didn't have this luxury, and they felt each and every loss. Their morale was falling slowly, trod upon by the advancing army of regenerating soldiers. But they fought on, intent on victory.

And then the fists descended again, and with them came ruin by one thousand.

The cycle had continued like this for the last twenty minutes. The Zetsu would swarm the ninja, killing or at least holding the attention of any they could, and then the Shin Susenju would rain blows upon them, both enemy and ally, obliterating all who failed to escape. The ninja were breaking. Tsunade could see it. The few that were able to hobble over to her for a help held resignment in their eyes. They were at peace with the deaths they knew were inevitable. Tsunade could heal their broken bodies, but she was too unsure herself to heal their broken spirits.

Her eyes turned to the creature atop the titan's head. Spiral Zetsu stood defiant, arms crossed as if disappointed in the lack of challenge the ninja provided. He said something, most likely some taunt or other, but Tsunade was too distracted by the purple sun appearing in the distance to hear what it was. Then the sound caught up to the light, a clash of thunder so loud that it left her in a silent, muted vacuum.

The earth shuddered beneath her feet, and the winds beat at her so savagely that chakra was the only thing keeping her standing. She saw ninja and Zetsu alike fall like dominoes beneath the united efforts of the elements, blown about like leaves caught in a gale.

Spiral Zetsu had his back to the blast when it appeared in all of its divine eminence, and was unprepared for the raging winds or the trembling earth, much less both. He toppled; a tyrant removed from his throne, and plummeted down to the chaos below. The Shin Susenju, deprived of its puppeteer, froze with its arms in mid-strike.

It was an opportunity that Tsunade would ensure was exploited.

oOoOo

Madara's world had imploded. At the hypocenter of the explosion, Madara would have, _should_ have, died three separate times. His hastily erected Susanoo had shielded him from most of the heat, something powerful enough to have vaporized him on its own. He could still feel it, leaking in through the fractures and cracks covering Susanoo's body. He could barely see the glass lake surrounding him through swimming vision. When the blast wave hit him, it tore through Susanoo and through him. The force of it had been enough to eject him from the Mazou in spite of his attempts to anchor himself with chakra, sent him tumbling through the air like a ragdoll, leaving him sprawled on his back surrounded by shattered glass. He spit the blood from his mouth, hoping to clear his lungs of the fluid gathering there. He felt every joint in his body protest agony, and his vision clouded for more than a few seconds. He could, even now, feel his bones knitting themselves back together, Hashirama's cells hard at work. The increased durability and regenerative powers of Hashirama's Sage Mode had been the only thing holding him together, when both the force of the blast and the sudden impact had respectively tried to tear him apart at the molecular level, and they had only barely been enough. Twice death had been avoided, and still the reaper was not done. The air came rushing back in, refilling the vacuum left behind by the blast wave's departure. Susanoo was nearly shattered, trying to withstand the barometric pressure, and still had not fully protected Madara from it. The hot tingle of his blood leaking from his ears and nose testified this fact. But once again, Sage mode helped him withstand the crushing pressure, while his busted eardrums healed themselves and his lungs refilled with air.

Eventually his ears stopped ringing, and Madara pushed himself into a tentative stand. His legs wobbled slightly, but eventually obeyed him, and he took account of his current situation. He had been propelled at least six hundred meters from the Mazou by his estimate, but he was uncertain, as the Mazou was nowhere in sight. It had been a good try, and would have certainly killed anyone else, but the Kyuubi had underestimated Madara and overestimated himself. And then Madara's self-satisfied smirk descended into a soft scowl. Kyuubi hadn't been aiming to kill him; it just needed him out of the way.

It needed him away from the Mazou.

The Kyuubi must have theorized, correctly, that severing Madara's connection with the Gedo Mazou would sever the chains, and free it from its restraints. The Mazou had promptly de-summoned, to prevent the statue from taking too much damage in the blast. It was _clever_, but futile.

Madara weaved the handsigns again, and again the Gedo Mazou appeared beneath him. Again it opened its jaws, and again the chain torpedoed toward the Kyuubi, picking itself up from its own sprawl towards the edge of the crater its misguided escape attempt had made.

A hawk's proud cry filled the stagnant air.

The creature banked left, intercepting the chain's path. A figure leapt from the raptor's back, looking to collide with the chain head on.

There was a shimmer of violet and, where once there was nothing, an ominous warrior stood, towering over the battlefield, with the chakra chain gripped firmly between its fingers.

Sasuke Uchiha had entered the fray.

oOoOo

Sasuke was about three kilometers out when the blast wave hit him. The hawk, sensing the oncoming change in the air's behavior, twisted into a spiral, minimizing its surface area and drilling straight through the wall of wind. Once free of the wave, its wings unfurled to catch thermals that were no longer there, and the two plummeted, the speed of their descent increased by the air falling in on top of them.

"Taroumaru, fold your wings in."

The raptor obeyed hesitantly, tucking in its wings and looking more a torpedo than a bird. They continued to fall, a nose dive towards certain doom. As the ground rushed up to greet them, violently, Sasuke's hands started moving urgently.

"Open them! _Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!_"

Taroumaru's wings shot out as the stream of fire erupted from Sasuke's lips, superheating the in front of them. The hawk pulled up, vigorously stroking his wings to increase his ascending angle, and climbed Sasuke's artificial thermals. No longer in fear of eminent death, they continued to speed toward Madara and what Taroumaru feared was 'slightly less' eminent death.

oOoOo

Sasuke, encased in the form of his Perfect Susanoo, turned one Sharingan eye to the recovered Kyuubi. The tailed beast held the look for a second before turning on his heels and retreating. Sasuke turned back to face Madara fully, message sent.

_Go, save the dobe, I have him under control._

Taroumaru fluttered slightly before alighting upon Susanoo's shoulder. Sasuke glared at Madara who returned his intensity with a look of blank indifference. It was the kind of look that one would give a child, or an insect. It was the kind of look his father had given him, the kind of look Itachi was _forced_ to give him. He _hated _that look.

"Madara, these eyes see through your madness."

Madara's eyes widened imperceptibly, but he said nothing. Instead, he flicked through the seals and the chain dissolved from between the opposing Susanoo's fingers, reforming unimpeded and in pursuit of the Kyuubi's fleeing form. A black blade of flame intercepted the chain and cut off its advance, the flames jumping from the blade to the chain and traveling down its length, consuming all it touched and forcing Madara to undo the jutsu. Sasuke would allow nothing to pass him, so Madara would have to go through him.

"You seek fulfillment and satisfaction in illusions. It's pitiful. Do you think that this will erase your failures?"

Madara returned his attention to Sasuke, somewhat, still looking more bored than anything. He practically looked ready to yawn. "Your verbal sparring is no better than your swordsmanship, _child,_" Madara drawled lazily. _Child?_ The lack of reverence for his prowess set Sasuke's teeth on edge, but he held his composure. But Madara wasn't done.

"You boast of your visual prowess, and yet you lack vision. You take pride in your insight, and yet you see nothing. And now you come to me with such a bloated sense of self, and expect me to take you seriously. You, child, are a punch line to a very bad joke." The corners of Madara's lips quivered slightly at that. "You embody what the Uchiha became; a shadow of their former glory, full of pride but weak and malleable. Your continued existence illustrates that incompetence."

Sasuke's face, once so apathetic, suddenly lit up with rage at that admonishment. He practically spat, "You know nothing of Itachi, and you know even less of _me_!" He had tried it Hashirama's way, but Madara could not be reasoned with.

"My vision is fine! I see a corpse, pretending to be a man. I see a pathetic creature that clawed its way back to the world just to taste defeat one last time! They call me the Last Uchiha, Madara, but that title won't be true until I've pulled my blade from your chest!"

And with that, Sasuke had lost all interest in discussion. His Susanoo charged forward, leaving Taroumaru struggling to stay in the air, its perch having run out from underneath it. Madara leapt from atop the Mazou, his own Susanoo forming around him in midair, and landed in a run to meet Sasuke in battle. Their ethereal blades clashed, black meeting blue, and they engaged in a dance of swordsmanship. Sasuke would sweep blade across Madara's chest, spinning with the blades momentum, and Madara would move up underneath the blade to run Sasuke through. Sasuke would allow his momentum to pull him to the right of the strike before bringing the arc down upon Madara's head, while Madara would catch the blade on his cross guard and shove the blade to the side, knocking Sasuke off balance. They were as elegant as they were fierce, and no movement was wasted. Madara feinted, luring Sasuke into his reach before sweeping him and toppling him. Sasuke rolled with the fall, landing in a crouch one hundred meters from Madara. Madara hadn't advanced, preferring to wait for Sasuke to come to him. He was enjoying the exercise, toying with Sasuke for amusement.

_Good, that would make killing him even more satisfying_.

Sasuke swept his flaming blade in front of him, leaving a wide, black arc across the ground between himself and Madara. He willed the flames of Amaterasu to climb, to burn higher than he'd ever let them before, until a black curtain separated him and Madara. Madara, however, stood unaffected by the display, and waited patiently for Sasuke to make his next move.

Another cry and Taroumaru dove from the sky, wings tucked neatly against its sides. Madara didn't even bother to turn, eyes still focused on the wall of black flames, but the Susanoo surrounding him used the rear pair of arms to ready the Yasaka Magatama. The discs of chakra flew, intent on cutting the raptor from the sky, but Taroumaru was a master of the air and barrel rolled to the right before spreading his wings to allow a draft to lift him out of the path of another of the chakra discs. He fell back into a dive, spiraling the whole way down, before colliding directly with Susanoo's head and knocking the behemoth off balance and…

…right into Sasuke's extended kick, right through the curtains of flame. Sasuke unleashed a barrage of kicks and punches, the Amaterasu flames dancing across his Susanoo's form, before punctuating the nasty combo with a sweep of his own. As Madara fell to the earth, Sasuke aimed a punch for his solar plexus, where Madara's actual body hovered. As the arm of his Susanoo extended, Sasuke's own arm crackled to light with a mass of chakra sparkling erratically, a palm of vicious lightening. He surged forward, flying down his Susanoo's arm, jutsu primed, and as his Susanoo's fist connected with the opposing Susanoo's chest, Sasuke ereupted forward roaring defiantly and aiming his Chidori for Madara's heart.

"_CHIDORIIIIIII!_"

As Sasuke pierced his Susanoo, lighting death in his hand, Madara let an amused smirk escape him before calmly uttering his response.

"_Shinra Tensei_."

**[A/N: There she is folks! I hope I captured all the emotional power I was aiming for this chapter. I tell you, it's really difficult to describe all the complexities of sword fights and explosions adequately and expect it to flow smoothly. Anyway, as I'm so green, I really would appreciate feedback, any feedback, to let me know what I'm doing right and wrong so I may improve.]**


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